Changed
by prouvaires
Summary: -It's all talk.- ArthurMorgana.


_It's been minutes, it's been days – it's been all I will remember. I have been lost in your hair and the cold side of the pillow._

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the BBC TV show Merlin, or any of the characters therein.

**Rating:** T (for minor adult themes)

**Words:** 2,183

**A/N:** This is dedicated to all the lovely people who have reviewed my Merlin one-shots so far: , Crimson-Kiss17, MaxBethForever, Whatever Makes You Break, emerald sorceress, Casey's Cross, xGeminiGirlx, Blazing Heart, BloodredCrimsonhands, Hayley's Happening, EllieBaby. And of course my anonymous reviewers, who I love just as much. I luffs chuu all (as my friend likes to say).

**Song: **Crack The Shutters by Snow Patrol

--

"We need to talk."

The words surprise her when they come out, but she's wanted to say them for a while so she lets them just float on the air between the two of them. His blonde head turns to hers, his (_oh-so-pretty_) blue eyes finding her green ones.

"About what?" he asks shortly. This irks her, and she strides closer, her blue skirts swishing as she moves.

"About _everything_," she informs him; and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. (Another of his habits that she hateloves so much.)

"So talk," he shoots back, acting more like a sulky toddler than any Crown Prince of Camelot ever has a right to. She glances around, her eyes quickly taking in the guards at the door, behind the throne, in the corner.

"Somewhere more private," she clarifies, and smiles her prettiest smile at him as the thought occurs to her. "Take a ride with me," she suggests, and he forces out a laugh.

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm far too busy."

"Yeah," she says sarcastically. "I can see that. Standing around being arrogant must really use up your time, huh?"

"Oh, be quiet," he retorts.

"Sorry, Arthur. I forget that you're all grown-up and responsible now. It seems to be a Pendragon fault – once you've matured you suddenly have no time for old friends or fun."

"I know what you're doing," he says, and a smile lurks at the corner of his lips as he turns to face her properly for the first time. (He battles it down, just like he always has recently.)

"Do you now?" she asks, and he rolls his eyes.

"Come on, Morgana, you're as transparent as a window."

She laughs. "You wish."

"If I take a ride with you, will you promise to leave me alone for the rest of the day?"

"Of course," she promises, and holds her hand out for him to shake and seal the deal.

"We're not eleven years old anymore, Morgana," he points out, and she shrugs. (He hasn't changed as much as he likes to think.)

"That doesn't mean we can't act it sometimes. Being so responsible must be dreadfully boring," she adds as they start to move through the castle towards the stables.

He laughs, and the sound's easier this time. He's getting back into the swing of being around her – he seems to have rather lost it recently.

They find their horses tacked up and ready, and Morgana signals to the guard to remain behind as they clatter out of the gates of the castle together.

"Where are we going?" Arthur asks after a short time, and she chuckles. "What?" he demands.

"You're still the same. 'Where are we going?' 'How far is it?' 'Are we nearly there yet?'"

He scowls into his horse's mane, but there's mirth dancing in his eyes and she knows he's remembering their childhood journeys too. (She's sure he doesn't remember them as she does – the last days of innocence and happiness.)

"We're not going anywhere in particular," she tells him eventually. "Just … riding."

He doesn't seem happy about this. "You know it's not safe to just wander, Morgana. The woods are full of druids."

She laughs for his naïveté. "The druids won't hurt us. You saved one of their kin, remember?"

"And killed scores more."

They are silent for a while, and then she finally summons up the courage to say what she really wants to.

"Arthur, I want to know … what's changed."

"What do you mean?" he asks, looking confused as he rides with his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Nothing's changed."

"You know it has," she says, suddenly pulling her horse to a halt. "You never talk to me any more, you treat me like some … some sort of foreigner! Like I'm nothing to you, like – "

"Morgana," he interjects, and his eyes are dark with something indefinable as he swings his horse around and halts it next to her, their knees just touching. "Don't be ridiculous. You are everything to me."

"Stupid," she mutters (and she kind of wants to cry). "It's all about Gwen, it has been since that tournament."

"Well, I don't see what right you have to get angry!" he exclaims, his horse prancing as it picks up on his tension and anger. "You have no claim on me."

"You are so _blind_," she screams at him, and her eyes flash bronze as a branch from a nearby tree tears away and falls, shrieking, to the earth. Then she kicks her horse into a gallop, running (away) into the woods. She hears a muttered oath behind her, and then his horse is galloping too, chasing her.

"Morgana, stop, please – listen to me …"

She can feel the tears rising, and the wind gusting into her face causes them to overspill, until she can barely see through a haze of saltwater and anger.

He catches her (of course he does).

He leans over and grabs the reins of her horse, and as he drags it to a halt it starts limping, one of its forelegs dangling awkwardly as it tries to avoid putting pressure on it.

"Morgana, listen," he commands, leaning over to take her hand. She wrenches it away, and dismounts, sliding down the opposite side of the horse and ending up kneeling in the mud, her face in her hands as she loses control. (It feels kind of good to let everything go, doesn't it?)

"Please," he murmurs as he drops to his knees next to her, and she's amazed to feel that he's shaking too. (Or maybe she's shaking so hard she's causing his body to shake along with hers.)

She turns her face into his chest as his hands tangle in her hair, his arms pulling her close.

"Morgana, we can't feel this," he tells her huskily as she stains his shirt with her tears. "I have to be with Gwen, it's my destiny."

"Destiny can go to hell," she mutters, her voice muffled against his body, a hiccup of a sob breaking her sentence up. He sighs and draws her even closer against him, his lips pressing against her hair. "Please, Morgana, this is already difficult."

She leans back to glare at him then, her red-rimmed eyes contrasting starkly against her white face. "Yes, it must be difficult, with Gwen there whenever you want her, and probably every other girl in Camelot too."

He presses his face into his hands, taking a deep breath to control himself. "They mean nothing compared to you – but Morgana, you _know _this can't happen."

She takes a breath too, the extra air calming the last of her sobs and controlling her erratic breathing. She doesn't say a word to him, but catches the reins of her lame horse and climbs up into the saddle of his. It snorts and shifts under her unfamiliar light weight, and Arthur picks himself up out of the mud and leaps up behind her, gathering the reins up so his arms are either side of her, locking her against him. (And it's not totally bad that she wants to stay there forever, right?)

He doesn't say a word for a long, long time, the horse meandering back up the path slowly to allow for Morgana's lame beast.

"Why?" he whispers eventually, despairingly, and she feels him shaking behind her. She twists awkwardly round so she can look him in the face, and his blue eyes gaze into hers (since when were they silver too?) and there's an awful sort of melancholy in them.

"Forget destiny," she tells him as she presses her lips to his, parting them gently as he sighs, dropping the reins to his horse as his hands move to clutch her against him. He pulls her off the horse quickly, deepening the kiss, as her hands untuck his mail and shirt and roam over the muscled plains of his stomach and chest, sending waves of goosebumps all over his body. He presses her back into a tree, leaning into her, and she can almost feel herself melting into him as his hands fly from her hair to her waist to her breasts, disbelieving that he's this close to her. (If this is what heaven feels like she'd die a million times over.)

"Please," she whispers softly against his mouth, and he knows what she means as her green eyes, hazy with desire, regard him lazily. He pulls her dress off quickly, and his own armour and clothes, draws her to the ground, and as they move together on the cold earth his name is the only word on her lips.

He's so lost in his feelings that when the forest around him bursts into colour and light suddenly as she falls over the edge he doesn't even notice, and his throatier cries join hers for an instant as he plunges over with her.

As he returns to himself he can hear her murmuring "I love you" over and over into his ear, and he kisses her again.

"I love you too," he tells her sincerely. "I think I maybe always have."

She caresses his cheek gently as he props himself up above her.

"Why have you spent so long ignoring me, then?"

"Because of Guinevere and destiny and so many other things I didn't understand."

She nods in understanding, and pulls a blue wildflower that has sprung from the ground next to her and tucks it behind his ear, leaning up to kiss him again.

"Gwen can have Lancelot," she tells him, and he smiles.

"They will be better suited to each other," he agrees, and she's never felt so happy. They begin to re-dress, and the tenderness in his movements as he fastens up the back of her dress makes her fall in love all over again. (Is it even possible to love someone this much?)

They re-mount the horse, and she leans back against his strong chest comfortably as they return to Camelot. Uther is waiting outside to greet them, furious with them for riding off without guards. His eyes widen as he takes in the lame horse, Morgana's messy, leaf-filled hair, their muddy clothes and the blue flower tucked behind his son's ear.

"Is there something you want to explain to me, Arthur?" he asks as they come up the steps together, their fingers intertwined as Morgana's head falls onto Arthur's shoulder. (And for some reason this simple gesture is more intimate than a kiss.)

Arthur just regards his father with something almost akin to _pity _in his expression.

"Yes, father. I wish to marry Morgana."

Uther turns to Merlin, who has come bounding out of the castle and stopped dead at the sight of Arthur and Morgana hand-in-hand. "Has he been enchanted again?"

Merlin shrugs, and Arthur laughs. "No, father, I'm not enchanted. I'm finally standing up for the person most important to me."

Uther merely stands and stares hard at him for a long, long time.

"Come on, Uther," Morgana says impatiently after an extended, awkward silence. "Surely I will not be that repulsive a daughter-in-law?"

Uther shakes his head, and forces a smile (it's more of a grimace, but the thought's there).

"No – that is, you are already almost a daughter to me … you've just … taken me by surprise, that's all."

They share a smile, and move past him into the castle, leaving a very bewildered king and equally confused young warlock behind them.

--

The wedding takes place three months later. Morgana is helped into her dress by several maid-servants. Gwen resigned her post shortly after Arthur announced his intentions of marrying Morgana. (Which was selfish of her, surely, when she was always going to abandon him for Lancelot anyway?)

He's heart-achingly handsome as she moves down the long aisle of knights and courtiers towards him, the choirboys in the back of the room filling the air with melody.

_Live long and prosper with him, Morgana, _a voice whispers inside her head, and she twists to see a familiar pair of blue eyes in a pale face amongst the choir. Mordred nods to her with a small smile, and she smiles back at him, radiantly happy.

_Come to visit me, _she entreats him as she advances closer towards Arthur.

_I shall. When he is king it will be safe._

_I love you, _she confesses to him, and although she's no longer looking in his direction she can _feel _him smile.

_I love you too, _he tells her, and her heart is swelling with so much love she feels she might burst. (She shouldn't be this happy, should she?)

Arthur is beaming at her, his face alive with love and satisfaction as she reaches him and takes his hand, turning towards the priest who begins the ceremony to join them together formally.

"I love you," she mouths to him as the priest finishes the rites and the court explodes into celebration.

"And I, you," he replies softly, cupping her cheek delicately and pressing his lips to hers. "Forever."

--

**This was going to be tragic, but they're such a tragedy in the series I couldn't bring myself to do it. They deserve a happy ending. And Gwen is just so annoying. Am I the only one who thinks that?**

**Again, please no favouriting without reviewing – thank you!**

**And for more one-shots of epic proportions for this couple, head over to emerald sorceress' account. Hers will blow you away.**


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